


Where We Must Be

by Summerfall



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan AU - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summerfall/pseuds/Summerfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where humans and magical beings must live apart, where a kingdom is split in two, and a prophecy entwines the lives of many, a prince and a fae finds their fates colliding to uncover the secret of Misthaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It was a well-known legend in the days of old that the faeries lived amongst the civilians of Misthaven, carefree and harmonious. Healers were aplenty as the faes share their medicinal knowledge, and advice was given freely from the minds of seers.

Sadly, the peace did not last and the Kingdom factions split into two, no longer content to live united. Both fought to rule the land and serve as the one true ruler. Thus the country was split: the Northern and Southern Isles, ruled by the Astillians and Gadiens respectively.

The faes, always the pacifists, tried to stay unsuccessfully out of the way but were manipulated into giving prophecies and slain as a result of keeping the information out of enemy hands. With little choice, the remaining faes scattered into the mountains where it was rumoured that the Elders set up a hidden realm, shrouded in mist to stay away from prying eyes and wandering travellers.

Blood stained the land but the faes continued to live their own peaceful lives, never to wander from their universe; thus fae sightings were few and far between, if even real at all. As decades wore on and peace seem to be far beyond reach, whispers started that the kingdom with a fae’s blessing will be the one to win the war. Thus searches were begun with vigour and ended in disappointment as the faes remained elusive until in the years to come, their existence became stories of myth and legends told to children to engender hope and faith.

In a quiet village known as the White Mountain Village, pieces of a prophecy came into being, one that depicts the end of the war and the procurement of a ruler. Lives will be entwined, from the North, the South and the one that will start it all, the last descendant of the fae tribe.

~*~

Killian’s first love is the sea, he felt a pull for it like air to his lungs – the salt in the air, the ebb and the flow of the water, the crashing of the waves. The wind chiming its song as it challenges the ocean to a melodic dual that has it humming in his veins.

He treasures the moments at the harbour, which are far and few between as it’s almost half a day’s travel from his home, and only when his mother has business to attend to.

Thus his second love came to be the woodlands, where the smell of pine and earth envelops him like a welcome embrace. He found a love in the serene atmosphere that imparts its own music amongst the backdrop of greenery, crisp and clear in the sunlight as the breeze weaves its way through the canopy of leaves.

The woodland beckoned to him from his backyard where he gladly ran to when his only daily task left is the collection of firewood. So he would always depart with a shout to his mother and return with arms full of kindling, leaves in his hair and a smile on his face.

It is here that he made a friend (at least, he hope she is a friend as they have yet spoken), always greeting him with an impish grin and sparkling green eyes. She dances through the trees in white, bare feet almost silent as she leaps from tree to tree, blond hair catching the sun in a halo of light.

They play hide and seek, although he is always at a distinct disadvantage as her giggles filter through the trees, the only clue to her whereabouts. Killian give as good as he’s got, weaving his way through the underbrush and foliage, ducking the low-hanging branches and jumping over sprawling roots.

Occasionally, Killian would wonder about the forest, briefly question if he saw the branches lift up out of his way, or if the roots sank further down to avoid him tripping, or even assisting him in his pursuits when the foliage nudge him in the right direction. These observations would flitter through his mind before it dissolves into the one-minded notion of winning the game.

He never catches her though, only bidding her farewell when sunset is imminent (he refuses to let mother worry), collecting his pile of firewood and always finding it stacked up with more than he collected.

~*~

Her name is Emma and she is a fae. Killian discovered this the day he decided to climb a tree. He was only half way up when he slipped, the fall a long way down (and surely painful) when he was caught, the ferns tickling his face and soft on his back as the branches moved him swiftly to his destination at the top of the tree where Emma is perched in waiting. The branch deposited him next to her with a pat to the head, leaving twigs and leaves in his hair.

“You’re real?” was Killian’s dumbfounded response as he recall the stories his mother would use to lull him to sleep at night.

Green eyes blinked at his curious question. “Yes, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know but my aunt Ingrid would get very mad at me.”

“Oh, okay.” Killian accepted this without further question, not wanting his friend to get into trouble.

Most importantly, however, they now have a new play area to run around in as Emma shows him her turf, teasing him with light leaps and graceful landings while he stumbled behind her. The forest is generous in lending a helping hand as they caught the children in mid-flight, allowing them to play jumping frogs on branches that would quickly shift into position to accommodate their moves, plucking Killian out of the air by his collar when his too short legs miscalculate a jump.

It is the most fun two children can have as they collapse in fits of laughter on the soft mossy banks.

~*~

Shortly after Killian turns eight, a group of men bearing the royal crest, came to his home. Killian didn’t like the look of them, especially given the soft gasp that was elicited from his mother at their arrival. But a kindly looking man was amongst them, with horn-rimmed glasses and receding fuzzy red hair. He introduced himself as Archibald (but Killian can call him Archie), a royal tutor who is here to take Killian to the castle to live at his father’s command.

Killian didn’t know his father and his mother made little mention of him beyond that fact that he is an important figure, that Killian’s dark hair and good looks came from him and that she is grateful that she was able to keep Killian by her side.

The young boy did not understand why his father would want to take him away, only that it made his mother very sad. He reached for her hand to comfort her and tears trailed down her face, the lines of worry deeper than ever. The sadness dimmed the light in her eyes as she told him that she will not be able to go with him.

(“Be brave, Killian, but be kind. It’s time to make your own adventure.”)

Killian ran.

He left a trail of shouts and cries of his name as he ran towards the only place where his happiest memories are held other than home.

It was a cloudy day to begin with but now the clouds fulfilled its promise as the soft pitter patter of rain began its descent. The forest look as lost and forlorn as Killian does.

Emma found him tucked at the base of their favourite tree, the overgrown roots almost hiding him from view. A large leaf had moved to cover him from the worst of the rain, which had started coming down in earnest. She crouched before him, head canted to one side as she regarded him with curiosity.

“Why are you sad?”

“I have to go away.” Killian sniffed, wiping his face against his damp sleeve.

“Why?”

“My father sent for me but mother can’t come.”

“Oh.” Emma looked wistful, lost in her own thoughts when she spoke. “I’ve always wished my mum and dad would come back for me.”

It was with surprise that Killian realise he knew nothing about her family, not that they spoke much beyond their play, other than the occasional fact drops, like when she helped a werewolf the other day.

“Where are they?”

“Gone.” She gave a small sad smile. “But it’s okay, I’ve got my aunt Ingrid and she loves me, even if she is strict.”

Silence stretched between them until Emma asked, “How long will you be gone for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Of course.” Killian answered adamantly. “You’re my friend.”

Emma grinned. “Good.”

They fell asleep at the tree, watched over by the forest, hands clasped tight with the promise of friendship despite the fear of what tomorrow will bring.

And that was how Ingrid found them, two children with no knowledge of what the future holds. Her heart is heavy with what she must do. She shot a look of warning at the plants as they made to interject, intent on protecting the light of happiness that has ran amok on their grounds over the last few months. But even they must cede to what appears to be a higher purpose.

~*~

Orange light painted the sky when Killian awoke to the water dripping on his face. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, wondering how on earth he had fallen asleep on the forest grounds or why he was here to begin with. His eyes alighted on the pile of kindling and he quickly went to collect them, surely he must be due home soon. If it is the last night he must spend with mother, he will do his best to make her happy.

And if the sound of a familiar tinkling laughter permeated his mind as he left, he shook it off as nothing more than a dream.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Julia (shoedonym) for being my beta, for picking up on my shoddy mistakes, for your suggestions, commentaries and kind words. Any mistakes are from my own tampering.
> 
> (Also, for any of the Ghibli fans out there, spot the character made famous by Hayao Miyazaki. I couldn't resist borrowing them.)

 

Screams of abuse shattered the peaceful air of the White Mountain Village as Emma retreated from the gathering near the lake, a scowl on her face as she wrung water from her dripping hair and clothes.  

She should know better by now, she really should, and she only has herself to blame for her current wet state (despite how satisfyingly comical it was for the other party). It was pure silliness to expect gratefulness from this lot when she was trying to help.

Her intent when she put together a chair with wheels, was to help one of the Village girls, who had twisted her ankle in an attempt to ride one of the wild horses. (And who subsequently bucked her off before she was halfway on, completely unimpressed by her posturing of “taming unschooled beasts”).

Despite medicinal help, little else could be done beyond rest and care and she would complain to anyone and anything about Emma’s inaptitude to heal (who as the youngest healer at 15, had little to say in the matter of who her patients are). And while most people rolled their eyes at the girl’s adolescent behaviour, none would deny her statement or defend Emma, despite evidence being on the complete contrary.

So, against her better judgement, Emma cobbled her invention together with haste but not without care and testing it herself to ensure its reliability and sturdiness (and almost running over Pipa, her blue-tongue lizard, in the process).

How was she to know the brat would panic at the slightest movement? Or lose control so fast that it sent her careening down the mild slope towards the lake, her wails of fear slicing through the air, where the Villagers bore witness to her spectacular dive into the water as Emma’s invention shattered against the bordering rocks.

While the Villagers murmured amongst themselves, Emma had dived in to drag her out, only to be greeted with flailing arms, a face full of wet clothes and incoherent yelling.

Mourning the loss of her newest invention, Emma dragged the girl out of the water and dumped her unceremoniously on the banks. Upon seeing the more than judgemental stares and whispers of the Villagers, she narrowed her eyes and decided a hasty retreat would help her sanity.

As she passed through the protective barrier and into the forest, a sense of calm settled over her. Her feet automatically carried her along the familiar path to her favourite hideout, the one that lingers in the grey area between Fae and the Outside world. There is general (strong) disapproval in straying here, at the risk of being exposed to the outsiders but Emma never had such qualms, enjoying the less-than-rare sightings and the quiet it affords her, knowing she’s less likely to be followed.

Except, of course, she always was. Emma sighed as she acknowledged the presence that ghosted her footsteps.

“Can you please leave me be? I’m not going anywhere dangerous,” she turned to face the mist hovering over her shoulder, the one that shrouded the Village from prying eyes. She knows it’s her Aunt Ingrid’s way of keeping an eye on her.

Knowing it wouldn’t listen to her anyway, Emma clambered onto the nearest tree. A cedar she calls her own, where she often whiled away many hours nestled comfortably on its large bough. The branches immediately moved to shield her from view and blocking her elemental minder.

Cocooned in the safety of the tree’s embrace, Emma stripped off her damp tunic, draping it over the branches where the breeze and strips of sunlight would hopefully dry it off. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing at the knots that had gathered from the wet strands. Huffing out an annoyed breath, Emma settled back with her arms behind her head, trying to push away at the thought of the lecture she will receive from Ingrid once she gets back.

While Emma knows Ingrid loves her like her own child, they never saw eye to eye on anything. Her upbringing has been strict and firm but never lacking in nurtured care. This was reflected in her studies but not in the abilities she is supposed to possess as the niece of the last Elder. Sight, glamour and elemental control are the expected abilities of a direct descendant, ones which Ingrid possess, whereas Emma only seems to present an affinity for plants and animals.

While Ingrid never commented on the lack of magic, she never actively encouraged Emma in this endeavour either, insisting instead on coaching her on medicinal herbs and their healing properties, as well as other mundane tasks that would be sure to earn her a good husband. (Emma sometimes wonders whether its ignorance or denial that has Ingrid thinking anyone in the village would give her the time of day).

As if sensing her declining mood, an apple dropped into her lap from an overhanging branch. Smiling in thanks, Emma took a bite, tilting her head back and marvelling at the way the light danced among the canopy of trees.

She awoke to the soft clop of hooves, alerting her to the eminent approach of a traveller. Stretching the kinks out of her shoulders, Emma peered through the foliage out of interest. A lone figure appeared on its stead, face and body obscured by a heavy cloak and hood. A rustle below her caught her attention; it took her a moment to identify the person hidden amongst the bush, well camouflaged by a green cloak. He made a gesture towards the approaching figure. Alarmed, Emma glanced around and spotted four more men hidden within the greenery.

Bandits.

The mist started drifting in. “Not now,” Emma hissed, waving it away.

Ghostly apparitions appeared along the branches, small white forms solidifying into a doughy human shape, small enough to fit into the palm of Emma’s hand, and minimalistic in their features with black eyes and mouth. Emma took a sharp intake of breath. Forest spirits appear in times of danger or during significant events and Emma was willing to bet on the former. They peered at the newcomers, head quirking from side to side and making its tell-tale rattle.

As the unwary traveller drew closer, one of the bandits from the opposite side moved forward, dagger at the ready. Snatching at the first thing her hand could find, Emma lobbed her half-eaten apple at him, hitting him between the eyes and sending him reeling back into the underbrush.

The mist tugged at her hair and clothes in earnest, trying its best to dissuade her from getting involved further; she batted it away impatiently. The other bandits paused, slightly puzzled as they searched for the source of their companion’s mild (and embarrassing) downfall.

Unfortunately, it also caught the attention of the traveller who slowed with an air of confusion. The bandit below her took the opportunity, grabbing his weapon and making his way forward.

Without thinking, Emma leapt.

Later on, she’ll blame the thickening mist rather than her own gross miscalculation when with a grunt, she crashed into the rider instead, sending them both to the ground.

Emma raised her head to the bluest eyes she has ever seen. The owner attached to said eyes didn’t look half bad himself. Looking only a few years older than her with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, strong jawline with a hint of a scruff. Stunned, they both stared at each other until a movement in her peripheral vision reminded her of more pressing issues to attend to.

Stumbling upright, Emma grabbed a fallen tree branch before approaching the nearest bandit who leered at her with teeth that had (hopefully) seen better days. The fact he wasn’t taking her remotely seriously meant the first hit to his stomach gave her immense satisfaction as the smug look was effectively wiped off his face. He put up a weak defence, clearly not anticipating her ability to fight.

Behind her, she can hear scuffling and while she knew her green friends will keep an eye on the traveller, she risked a quick glance his way as her opponent stumbled over a monstrous root that has suddenly popped up, only to see the traveller expertly wielding a sword. Apparently, there was no need to worry about him.

In the end, a hard placed knock to the head rendered the bandit unconscious. She spun to face the others, to find a trail of dust left behind by his disappearing associates. The traveller was sheathing his sword and did not look remotely ruffled or out of breath.

“You can fight,” she realised as hot embarrassment swept through her at her stupidity for exposing herself. No wonder the mist tried to hold her back.

“So can you,” he replied, nodding at the unconscious heap behind her, looking somewhat amused.

“I thought I was helping you,” Emma said, as if in apology and winced at how defensive it sounded.

Definitely amused now, he quirked an eyebrow at her, eyes intent upon her face. “You fell on me.”

Emma was about to protest that she thought he was in danger when he said, “Thank you.”

He smiled at the blank look on her face. “Not many people would step in to help, regardless of the method.”

Emma shrugged, unsure of how to respond so instead turned back to the situation on hand. “What happened to the others?”

“Those men decided to see reason. Although…” he frowned as his sentence trailed away, glancing into the depths of the forest.

A tangle of liana gave a discreet wave from behind the traveller, trying to get her attention. Her eyes widened as it held up an unconscious man twined within the climber as if wondering what it should do with him. Emma motioned for it to let him go (carefully!). The plant seemed reluctant but did so anyway, dumping him roughly on the soft moss where the forest spirits immediately congregated, poking and prodding the man curiously.

Emma stifled a groan. What a nightmare. She needed to get everything sorted before awkward questions were asked. Turning her attention back to the traveller, she gestured towards the way he came from.

“You should get out of here. These woods aren’t exactly safe.”

He seem surprised by her sudden dismissal. “And yet here you are, wandering the woods by yourself and saving roughish strangers.”

Emma smiled. “I know this place,” she took a step back with the intent of leaving. Not wanting to leave on a bad note, she added, “And I’ll try not to let the saving thing become a habit.”

“And your clothes?”

His question threw Emma off. “Sorry?”

He gestured up and down her body, eyes straying down before snapping back to her face again and away from her, although the signs of a smirk were apparent.

“Will your minimally dressed state be a habit as well?”

The realisation she was only dressed in her shift dawned on Emma like a waking nightmare. Struggling to keep the horror from her face, she replied with as much confidence as she can, “I guess you’ll never find out.”

Signalling discreetly with her hand behind her back, she could feel the whisper of the forest as it passed along her instruction. The branches behind the traveller’s horse seem to converse amongst themselves, debating the best way to perform the job before one them decided to take it upon itself and slapped the horse with glee (Emma resisted the need to roll her eyes at such juvenile behaviour). With an indignant wicker, the horse effectively took her owner’s attention.

With one last glance, Emma quickly slipped away.

(Later, the roots and vines had to restrain her from hitting her head in embarrassment one too many times against the tree.)

~*~

Killian knew he was being followed several moments after entering the forest, succinctly pinpointed the five individuals creeping through the underbrush in an endeavour to ambush him at the appropriate moment. He allowed them the safety of his apparent unawareness, knowing he could easily dispatch them should they attack but hoping they would do the right thing. Not for his sake, but for theirs.

He had been on a scouting mission, to immerse himself in the terrain and map the territory on the chance the Gadiens would base their attack in this area in order to claim another piece of land as theirs. The usual call would be to send out a group of his ground soldiers for this errand, but Killian needed to get away from the council meetings and the politics, and he had always been of the mind to experience the field for himself, if he is to be the strategist that is held so highly.

He could tell the moment the bandits choose to attack, his hand tightening on the hilt of the sword hidden under his cloak (to defend, not kill unless the situation warrants it). What he did not expect was for one of the men to be taken down by an apple, even less so when he got the drop out of nowhere. Stunned and even more dazed, he found himself surrounded by golden-spun hair and fiery green eyes.

His mystery attacker had disappeared all too quickly to take care of one of the bandits and any concern he may have had for her safety disappeared when he saw her take him on. What she lacked in skill, she made up in her ferocity and determination. His attention was quickly taken by the other armed men who were clearly not used to retaliation. Killian quickly demonstrated why this whole foray was a bad idea on their part, using the sides of his sword to deflect and hit (and if he was particularly brutal to the one who saw the opportunity to attack the unsuspecting lass while she was preoccupied, no one was the wiser).

Even in the thralls of this relatively unexciting brawl, Killian couldn’t help noticing the strange air around this place (and he’s not just thinking about the unusual and indecisive mist that keeps drifting in and out), almost as if the forest is humming with life. He could have sworn there was one man who got dragged into the bushes out of the corner of his eyes, but when he turned to have a proper look, there was no trace.

He was amused and intrigued by her – a semi-naked woman who had appeared out of nowhere to assist a stranger. He could tell she was embarrassed by the ordeal, no doubt thinking him some helpless individual who required aid. He wanted to reassure, to comfort, to have her know her help was appreciated (despite obviously not needing it).

There’s an air of familiarity that comes and goes, teasing him with nothing but a feeling. There were questions to be asked but he’s not sure of what, and a humming in the back of his mind that refused to go away.

All too quickly, she’s ready to leave, and he knew -- without knowing how or why -- the elusive questions would remain unasked. He wanted to know more about her, how she knew the forest. But his horse drew his attention away from her.

And in those few moments that he took his eyes away, she disappeared.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The last of the soldiers disappeared round the rocky bends, their harried yells echoed along with the receding gallop of their horses. Silence settled at long last though the echo of clashing metal on metal of swords lingered in the air, witnessed by the craggy walls of the canyons. Dust danced in a downward spiral in the sun and landed on the bodies which littered the ground.

Killian Jones slid off his horse, Ayla, and removed his mask, placing it on a hook on the mare’s bridle. The three people around him followed suit.

“We should go after them,” Mulan said, glaring at where the last horseman had disappeared. “Finish them off while we still have the chance.”

“No, we’re still vastly outnumbered.” Killian replied, surveying the small army behind them, awaiting orders. “We may have dwindled their numbers but to go in now would be suicide. General Tarrant will be here with backup first thing tomorrow morning.”

“A well-executed plan, brother.” Liam, his older counterpart, clapped him on the back, proudness evident on his face.

Killian silently agreed. The Gadiens outnumbered them two to one with their army, threatening to overtake their borders with a rise of their own. The call to arms came from Commander Mulan Fa and Robin Lockley, his sister- and brother-in-arms. A strategic plan had to be thought up on the spot given the opposing numbers. No one believed them capable of survival.

But Killian and Liam Jones were not called the Brothers of War for nothing, despite their disdain for the name. Killian’s knowledge of the terrain in which they fought on gave him an almighty advantage. Joining the fight with only fifty odd brave soldiers would have been laughable and indeed, the opposing general, Edward ‘Blackbeard’ Teach, jeered at this "pitiful show of offence" before leading his forces against him, bellowing promises of promotions and wealth to the first person who caught him and strips him of his mask.

Smirking behind said mask, Killian ordered the retreat of his soldiers’ while he took off in the opposite direction. The Gadiens followed him, the promise of rewards and title a tantalising treat before them. He was momentarily stunned, however, when Mulan rode up to him.

“What are you doing?” Killian demanded, “Follow the plan.”

His friend barely glanced at him, “You’re not doing this by yourself.”

They made it to their destination, manoeuvring their steeds over the sandy terrain until they reached the top of the sand dune where the pair stood their ground to observe the army still pursuing them. The smart ones held back, sensing something was amiss with the situation. The majority ploughed ahead, straight into the quick sand, sending both men and animal into a gritty death pit.

“It’s working,” Mulan murmured.

“Don’t celebrate so soon,” Killian warned as he watched the surviving army use their comrades and steeds as stepping stones to cross the pit. Blackbeard swung his sword as he went, cutting down the soldiers clawing at him for help.

“Cold hearted son of a bitch,” Mulan muttered as both her and Killian turned their horses to continue their flight.

There’s a reason why Blackbeard climbed the ranks in the Gadiens army, sacrificing others and giving nothing to get what he wants. While his actions no longer surprise Killian, it is always a hard sight to swallow.

The walls of the canyon loomed before them, an intimidating force of nature before throwing its shadows over them as they rode into its craggy depths. Triumphant cries announced the Gadiens’ arrival as they followed the pair through, winding through the curves and bends as the valleys between the walls grew narrower and tighter, creating a bottleneck effect as the army finally burst through into the open.

The thought of trapping one of the infamous brothers had them yelling in jubilation, which abruptly cut off when faced with the fresh army from Liam Jones’ camp, swords and arrows at the ready.

At Liam’s signal, shots were fired and swords found their marks while the Gadiens tried to backtrack to no avail as they became their own worst enemies. The fight lasted a few minutes as blood sprayed and bodies fell. Killian engaged with Blackbeard, gaining the upper hand before one of the Gadiens fell between them. Snarling, Blackbeard bodily hauled the injured solider in Killian's direction. The body hit the ground, arms arcing out with blade in hand and slicing into Ayla’s leg. His horse reacted with a whinny of pain, almost dislodging Killian in the process and stealing his attention.

By the time Killian got his bearing back, the last of the Gadiens had retreated, following Blackbeard’s lead.

It was a good plan but not effective enough to aid their army. Backup was the only way for them to even the playing field. However, this round had effectively boosted up their army’s confidence.

There was nothing to be done for the rest of the day, they had done what they could and a bit of well-deserved rest will only aid in the coming battle.

“Let’s head back to camp.” Killian instructed.

“Hang on, Ayla’s injured.” Robin pointed out, halting him in his tracks. “It looks pretty deep too. If it doesn't get seen to, it will probably get infected.”

Blood stained Ayla’s leg, matting the fur surrounding the angry red wound. Tying a cloth around it to stem the bleeding, Killian patted his loyal steed who displayed an air of calmness despite her injury.

“There’s a hot spring in the vicinity rumoured to help with injuries.” Liam spoke up, “Perhaps it’s worth investigating?”

Killian nodded. “I’ll take her there. The rest of you head back to camp but be careful, there’s still Gadien soldiers in the area. No one is to leave the camp without orders.”

“Who’s the Captain here, lieutenant?” Liam said with good humour.

“Aye, just ensuring those who fall asleep at the sound of your voice hear it from my dulcet tone, brother.” With a grin, he took Ayla’s rein. “Make sure to keep him out of trouble while I’m gone.” He added to Mulan and Robin who each gave a lazy wave of their own.

Despite being eight years his senior, Liam Jones has always admired his younger brother’s tenacity and his ability to make the best out of any situation. His upbringing was not ideal, bought into the kingdom as a civilian after his father’s royal dalliance with a commoner. Liam, as his half-brother, had the privilege of growing up within castle walls and had shown Killian the ropes and subtlety of handling royal pains and politics.

After an unsteady start, Killian grew into his own, compassionate yet headstrong, his swordsmanship on par with Mulan’s (their competitive streak on the fierce side and something to behold). There were times when Liam had to rope him down to study but like everything else, Killian surpassed everyone’s expectations and became an adept strategist. His good looks and his flair with words also served to his advantage, especially with the ladies in court.

By the time he was of age, he had earned the respect and admiration of not only high-ranking officials and royal family members, but also that of his uncle, King Rupert. When their father passed away, the King called on him even more, looking out for him and in time, relying on him for council, especially when he progressed steadily to lieutenant, bypassing those of higher ranks and age. However, no one could begrudge him of his status and despite the jealously which followed, he amassed a group of loyal followers, those prominent being his childhood friends.

Mulan and Robin are members of the war council and Lady and Lord to their own respective estates. They met in training and hit it straight off. Mulan impressed both Killian and Liam with her swordsmanship, knocking Killian onto his backside the first time round. Rather than being put-off, Killian had scrambled to his feet and claimed Mulan as his mentor. Cool and calculating, she is the only woman in the King’s army through defiance alone, making her mark amongst the men as one never to be trifled with. Those who did so were taught the lesson the harsh and painful way.

Robin on the other hand, is warm and friendly, always willing to see the best in others. His compassion is what bought him and Killian together, and their willingness to help the downtrodden. Where Mulan excels with the sword, Robin’s confidence lies in his archery where he never fails to hit a target. His family is only second to the monarchs but different viewpoints with his father had him cutting ties, abandoning his title to fight for the greater good.

Both are loyal to a fault and are considered family as far as the Jones brothers are concerned.

Liam shot one last look towards Killian’s departing figure. Despite being full-fledged adults now, there are still times when Liam can still see the child underneath. Killian's disdain for violence is buried beneath a (literal) mask, an anchor on his compassionate nature. Only those closest to him are aware of this; to the rest of the world, he is as fearless as he is strong. When Liam hears of Killian’s childhood, he longs for the simpler life, to take his brother away from palace intrigue, where he does not have to hide his true nature for fear of being killed. But Liam knows that like him, Killian would never take that option if he had a choice. They are bound to their people, they which carry honour.

~*~

“I heard someone tried to blow up the Village again.”

Ms Fairweather’s eyes widened over her open mouth as Emma finished her examination, eased her jaws closed, and palpated the sides of her neck.

She addressed the brunette behind her without turning. “That’s an exaggeration, if I really wanted to blow it up, it would have worked.” She smiled at the elderly woman before her to show she was only jesting.

“Well, you know what they say about practice.” Red replied.

Emma ignored her friend as she addressed her patient. “Your throat is still inflamed and I’m afraid the cough won’t go away unless you stop inhaling that smoke of yours Ms Fairweather.” On cue, the woman let loose a hacking cough which wracked her formidable frame. Grimacing in sympathy, Emma reached inside her satchel and produced a jar filled with an unappetising concoction of lungwort, plantain leaf, lobelia and osha roots.

“Take a spoonful of this twice a day and it should ease your cough.” Emma held the medicine back when the ex-banshee reached for it. “But only, Ms Fairweather, if you stop smoking that so-called remedy. It's toxic and won’t bring your shriek back. This won’t do you much good otherwise.”

“Of course, Emma dear, I’ll try my best.” Her hoarse voice was genuine, grey curls bobbing along with her emphatic nod. “As long as you promise not to blow yourself up, we would be devastated if you do.”

Surprised, Emma laughed. “I promise.”

As soon as Ms Fairweather ambled off, her cough still echoing after her, Red dropped into her vacated seat. “I’m guessing Ingrid didn’t appreciate your efforts?”

Emma sighed. “She grounded me.”

“Obviously, since you’re here and oh wait, was that you I saw sparring with the boys?”

“I needed to vent.”

“I think you made one of them cry.”

“At least I didn’t blow them up.”

Lá Bealtaine is upon them and the faes were on edge. Being one of the crucial festivals to ensure the continual growth and harmony of their Village, every ounce of preparation has to be nothing short of perfection. Thus tempers are short, eyes are critical and judgement is at an all-time high. In times like these, Emma finds it easier to stay out of the rampaging warpath and make herself scarce at the Outcast village.

“You know,” Red linked arms with Emma as they both stood up. “I can’t be without by trusty healer. Who else would keep me in line?”

Emma laughed. “You’re an enabler, I just get dragged alongside you.”

Red nudged her with her hip. “You love it.”

The Outcasts are magical beings who fell from grace and shunned by their own, whether it’s through a defect or injury which has disabled them, or the lack of certain abilities which make their kind. They are abandoned and unwanted due to differences beyond their control. From banshees who have lost their shriek, to giants who are shorter than their kins, to vampires who can no longer bite, to shapeshifters who has no control over what they change into. Their kind has long disappeared after the war although a stray would appear on occasions, a cruel ejection from their world.

Afraid to live amongst the humans, they sought protection to the fae’s general disapproval. When Ingrid became the only Elder left, she extended the protection towards them, creating another village alongside theirs. It was a controversial decision which had sent a wave of consternation through the fae community but Ingrid held firm. As hard as the faes deny it, they believe in whole individuals with unbroken abilities and lineage. Something which Emma does not share a view in, as did Ingrid. However, even being an Elder has its limitations and Ingrid can no more sway their thoughts than control their minds. She can only allow her actions to speak louder than words.

Though the faes do not venture beyond their own borders, Emma had no such qualms and became fast acquainted with the residents. None faster than with Red, left for dead after an attack by a rabid werewolf. Ingrid and Emma saved her and nursed her back to health and through her friendship, showed Red she is not alone. Since then, they shared an unbreakable bond that had them getting in trouble left, right and centre.

“EMMA!”

Emma spun around, startled not so much by the scream of her name but the raw panic laced in it. Gretel rushed to her as fast as her short legs can carry, face flushed, hair coming out of her pigtails. She came to a halt before Emma, trying to catch her breath while pointing frantically towards the mountainside.

“Hansel – we were playing at the Gully – he tripped and fell over the edge.” She took a shuddering breath, “he’s hanging onto the side but we can’t get to him.”

“What were you doing at the Gully?!” Red exclaimed, exchanging a look of alarm with Emma. She took Gretel’s hand. “That’s non-magical territory and dangerous.”

Gretel hiccupped, wiping at her tears. “We were just playing, we didn’t mean to stay long. Please, please, please don’t tell anyone.”

The Gully is outside fae protection and forbidden territory for the magical community, lest Outsiders discover them. The penalties are severe if caught but while Emma doubt the children will be punished to the full extent, both she and Red opted to keep this quiet.

After making a quick stop at Red’s hut to collect supplies, they hastened towards the Gully where the trees and moss thin out to make way for cracked soil and barren land, gaping holes begging for water. The Gully, also known as the Devil’s Mouth, is an apt description for its steep and jagged rocky walls and a yawning drop to below.

The girls found the spot by the group of kids huddled near the edge and quickly ushered them back, lest they end up rescuing more than one child.

Emma found Hansel on a narrow ledge, balanced precariously against the rocky wall, red hair vivid in stark contrast to the bleak surrounding.  While it’s not a steep drop to reach him, it won’t be an easy task either. Scanning her surroundings, Emma found little in the way of plant life to call upon for help. Shouting down words of assurance for the boy, she grabbed the coil of rope and proceeded to secure one end to the nearest boulder.

“Emma?” Red questioned, the kids huddled around her in a worried circle.

“He’s fine, I just need to go down to get him.”

A hand closed around Emma’s as she tied the other end of the rope around herself, leaving a sufficient amount to loop around Hansel. “Who says you’re the one going down?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I do. I’m lighter and a better climber than you.”

Red frowned. “If I didn’t know better, I would be inclined to think you called me heavy.”

“I’ve been meaning to mention that to you.” Emma grinned as her friend gave her a gentle shove.

“Just be careful, okay?”

“I will. Keep your senses on high alert up here, in case we get unwanted visitors.”

“And then what? Howl at them?”

“If you think it would help scare them away.”

“You’re adorable, why are we friends again?”

The easy exchange and subsequent laughter seem to relax the group of children as Emma gestured them over, explaining the process of how she is going to get Hansel and their role in helping them back up. She gave Gretel the job of ensuring the excess rope is looped around the boulder, in case of slippage. The young girl gave a sombre nod of understanding.

Tying two strips of linen to her hand to avoid rope burns; Emma made her way down the cliff, thankful for the slope which gave her a bit of leverage against the loose rocks. The midday sun beat hot and heavy against her, sweat trickling down her back.

There was a chorus of cheers when she reached Hansel, his body pressed against the rocks, knuckles white from his tight grip. He was reluctant to relinquish his hold and took a bit of coaxing and encouragement before she managed to get the end of the rope looped around the boy and transferred his hold onto her shoulders, the rest of his limbs curling around her body in an awkward piggy back.

“You okay back there?” Emma felt him nod and gave Red and the kids a thumbs up. “Bring us up!”

The trek upwards was slow but steady, though her arms protested as much as her back with her heavy load. Emma longed for a soak in the hot spring when this is all over.

They were near the top, the edge within reach when Emma felt the rope go slack. They fell back a bit before the rope jerked against the boulder. Hansel gave an alarmed shout.

“Red?” she called out. Dread settled in her body with the lack of response. Then murmured voices came from above. Something wasn’t right. She tried pulling herself up, feet scrambling for purchase but the load on her back made gravity an obstacle to overcome.

Emma was about to call out again when a head popped over the side, the last face she ever wanted to see. So strong her disdain for this person she felt the immediate need to punch him in the face.

“Emma!” he greeted with simpering cheer.

Emma gritted her teeth. “Walsh. What are you doing here?”

How the stupid monkey managed to get back here is beyond her. Ingrid had banished him beyond the borders of magic.

“I thought you would be glad to see me here, considering the precarious situation you are in.” he fingered the taut rope with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“We were doing fine before you came along, so let us get back to it.”

“Why would I do that when I’ve got you where I want you?”

The unease in Emma’s gut grabbed her by the heart as her thoughts went to her friend. “Red?”

Walsh turned his head to give a singular nod.

“I’m fine, Emma, so are the kids.” Red’s restrained voice rang out.

“Aw, she forgot to mention the crossbow my friends have aimed at her too. You know, in case she decides to let the little doggy come out to play.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Wash.” Emma spat out. “Using your so-called skills to potentially expose us for money is one thing, but these are innocent children here.”

“Nobody needs to get hurt as long as you do what I say.”

“And what would that be?” Emma has zero interest in giving Walsh the time of day but with Hansel heavy on her back and Red and the kids in harm’s way, it would be prudent to indulge him.

“When your lovely aunt removed me from my dwellings, she not only trapped my abilities but also made it so I am unable to communicate my heritage.”

Emma tampered down a smirk but couldn’t resist asking, “You want to tell people you’re a monkey?”

Walsh narrowed his eyes. “I could fly.”

“Sorry, you want to tell people you’re a flying monkey?” even Hansel gave a wet giggle from behind her.

Walsh bared his teeth, revealing more of his simian qualities. “Careful Emma, you and your friends are at my mercy right now.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” Walsh knows Emma doesn’t possess any of Ingrid’s power.

Walsh glanced behind him as if assessing the situation. “I’ve got a group of men here, currently looking after your friends, who are interested in a business arrangement. I just need you to show them what you can do.”

“So what? We can be carted off for your amusement?”

Walsh shrugged. “It’s better than being dead.”

“You really don’t care that you’ll be putting everyone in jeopardy do you?”

“I don’t recall anyone speaking up on my behalf during my banishment.”

“That’s because you were going to sell us out!”

“No matter, you will do what I say or you can say goodbye to your friends.”

Emma shook her head. “Walsh, you know the limitations of what I can do, there’s nothing here for me to use.”

“Here’s a little incentive.” He pulled out a knife and ran it across the rope, fraying it. “Perform or perish.”

Emma felt, rather than saw the rope give a little as the strain of two bodies took its toll. A yell from the top took Walsh’s attention away from them as he scrambled back, a scowl on his face as the sound of a commotion broke out.

Emma scanned her surroundings, looking for a foothold or something to grasp onto to relieve the strain on the rope but to no avail. The wobble in her legs told her she cannot keep the dead weight off the rope any longer. Her back is damp with sweat and Hansel’s tears and Emma knew there was only one way to give the boy his best chance.

“Hansel, I need you to climb onto my shoulder and I’ll give you a boost to the top.”

The boy only clutched her tighter, refusing to let go. “Hansel, please, I need you to be brave. You need to go up there to help your sister.”

The mention of Gretel seem to pull the boy out of his blanket of fear as he gave a reluctant nod. Emma gave him a smile of encouragement as he untangled his limbs from around her, levering himself up and leaving bumps and bruises behind. Emma far from cared as the tip of his fingers grasped the edge and she boosted him up and over the top, his shoes disappearing from view.

The commotion seem to have died down and Emma prayed she hadn’t sent Hansel off to his death (not that he was any better off with her). Her legs gave out beneath her and she swayed, the rope digging into her thigh and waist even as she tried in vain to keep her dead weight off the rope.

Which is when it had enough and snapped.

Emma's stomach dropped and a scream was halfway up her throat when the rope bit in her flesh, pulling her up short.

A pair of familiar blue eyes greeted her before she was pulled upwards, tumbling over the side on shaking limbs and aching muscles (she’ll have hell to pay come tomorrow), her body colliding with solid ground with sharp relief.

She was still catching her breath, heart trying to beat its way out of her chest and her mind a mass of disjointed thoughts when her rescuer spoke.

“So we meet again love.”

~*~*~

Killian led Ayla across the rocky terrain towards the forest, mindful of her injury and keeping a sure but leisurely pace. Ayla kept up fine, nudging Killian on occasions when his need to ensure her comfort slowed them down. They were making good time when they came across a group of men, one of which was aiming a crossbow at a lass with brunette hair. The woman herself held a defensive stance, arms flung out in an attempt to protect the group of children huddled behind her. Crouched at the edge of the gully is the fifth member of the group, having an amiable conversation with whoever’s hanging from the rope.

Concerned, Killian indicated for Ayla to stay while he went to investigate, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword and adopting an amicable demeanour.

“Excuse me, is everything alright here?”

The one holding the crossbow scowled at him. “Mind your own business and keep moving.”

Killian glanced at the brunette who gave a slight shake of her head, whilst keeping a sharp eye on the weapon aimed at her. Two of the men in the group looked wary, obviously not comfortable with the situation at hand. The fourth member seem to possess more brawn than brains, his wide girth and muscles flanking the man wielding the crossbow, a look of glee on his face.

The youngest member with short cropped hair and prominent ears mumbled, “This ain’t right, Murphy. We should let them go.”

“If you can’t handle this Scarlet, you can leave. But don’t come crawling to us when we start bringing in the big money.”

“I would listen to the boy, it’s a smart suggestion.” Ignoring the indignant ‘oy’ coming from the boy, Killian gestured at the weapon. “Or at least point that elsewhere.”

The object in question swung around to him. “How about here?”

“It’s a slight improvement but still not the smartest decision.” An arrow flew past Killian as he drew his sword, allowing the forward movement to knock the crossbow out of the man’s grasp and into his face, knocking him out cold. A guttural growl informed Killian of his colleague’s displeasure and Killian dodged the blow in time to cut back from the brute and deliver a precise blow to the back of the head, sending him to the ground in a cloud of dust.

When Killian turned back to the brunette, one of the men was out cold, the other in a glazed stupor on the ground and she had the crossbow aimed at the lanky fellow, who had abandoned his post at the gully. “Just give me a reason Walsh and I’ll hit you right where it hurts.”

Walsh held his hands up in surrender, looking anything but remorseful. “Ah yes, but I should point out that your friend is about to fall to her death, so I would choose your time wisely.”

Killian glanced towards the gully where a boy of about six years of age was scrambling over the top. His eyes flicked towards the still straining rope – someone is still down there and hanging by a thread judging by the fast unravelling cord.

He made a mad dash towards to where the child was, just as the frayed rope snapped. Fire scorched the palm of his hands as they wrapped around the disappearing rope, almost jerking his arms out of their sockets. Adjusting his centre of gravity with the additional weight, he braced his foot against a protruding rock and started to pull.

Fingers appeared over the top, gripping the edges. Killian reached down and pulled them up by the arm. He saw a tumble of blond hair before he cleared her from the brink and she stumbled into him, body trembling as she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, chest heaving, hair in disarray and face streaked with sweat and dirt.

With a start, Killian realises she is the same woman he met in the forest all those years ago.

(The one that slips into his mind during dull council talks of war, strategies and politics; who appears faceless in his recurring dreams, jumping and weaving through the woods, always within sight but never to be caught.)

“So we meet again, love.”

Her eyes popped open as she glanced at him, brows furrowed before recognition lit her eyes. “It’s you.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “It’s me.”

Before more can be said (and Killian can see the questions forming), a yell took their attention away from one another. They both turned to see the kids attacking Scarlet, attaching themselves to his arms and legs, one even hanging around his neck. There was an almost predatory grin on the brunette’s face despite calling for the kids to behave, her eyes and weapon never moving from Walsh who is looking a little nervous at this point.

The woman before him pulled herself up on unsteady legs before stalking towards the group. Killian followed and had barely reached her side when she swung her fist. It connected with the weasel’s face with a satisfactory crack, sending him sprawling to the ground. When the shock faded, he let loose a string of curses, muffled by his hand and what Killian suspected to be a broken nose.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” the brunette muttered to herself, lowering the crossbow at her incapacitated target and pulled her friend into a bone-crushing hug. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Did they hurt you?” the blonde asks, anxious eyes scanning her friend.

“No, this gallant gentleman here intervened just in time.” She gestures towards Killian with a smile.

“I believe I only assisted in distracting them enough for you to turn the table on them.” Killian replied, impressed with her fast actions.

“Regardless, we’re grateful. I’m Red, by the way, and this is Emma.”

“Killian Jones.” He gave a slight bow, elated at having one of the mysteries solved. “It is an honour to receive your name this time, Emma.”

Red cast them both a confused look. “Have you two met?”

Emma shuffled her feet. “Remember that incident a few years back?”

“Oh, the traveller you jumped.” Red laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Killian.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Emma’s eyes roved over him. “You lost your ponytail.”

 “You found your clothes.” Killian grinned as her cheeks flamed pink.

A painful grunt came from behind them. “Oy, a little help if you please. These little rascals aren’t as innocent as they seem.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before attacking us.” Red replied dryly, bringing the crossbow up to rest on her shoulder.

“It wasn’t me – ow – gerrof!” Scarlet made a half-hearted swipe of one of the kids tugging at his ears. “That Walsh guy said he had some idea to get us rich, nothin’ bout killin’ no one. Every time he tried to explain, it sounded like –”

“Don’t listen to him.” Walsh appealed to Killian. “They’re –” the next sounds out of his mouth were a series of chattering and screeching.

“Did he…did he just speak monkey at me?” Killian asked, torn between shock and bemusement even as Red’s eyes watered with suppressed laughter.

“Yes, I suppose he did.” Emma said dispassionately, glaring at the man in question.

“What are we going to do with him?” Red asked after she composed herself, wiping at her eyes.

“Let Ingrid deal with him, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see him again.”

Emma moved to untie the rope still attached to her waist, as Red went to remove the kids from Scarlet, who was fighting a losing battle.

“Here, let me.” Killian offered when Emma fumbled and failed to undo the knot.

“Thank-you, by the way. For everything.” Emma said as the rope came loose.

“No thanks necessary, lass. After all, you have saved me before.” He gave her a sly wink and a grin that widened as she blushed.

Killian tied up a disgruntled Walsh, who still attempted to mix human and monkey language together. Killian isn’t sure what to make of it – surely it is an illness which can be cured. Emma checked on the kids, patching up the minor scratches and grazes and extracting promises from them never to venture here again. They freed Walsh’s men with a decent warning, after all, they didn’t seem to understand what they were getting themselves into, bar the one who held the crossbow (Red growled something into his ear which had him eyeing her in fear) (she also took his crossbow as her own). Scarlet in particular seem the most remorseful and most eager to be off.

“Where were you going? Before this happened, I mean.” Emma returned to his side, rubbing at the dirt on her face but only succeeding in smudging it.

Killian reached forward before realising himself, allowing his arm to drop back to his side. He cleared his throat and patted the horse beside him. “This is Ayla. She was wounded in battle. I heard there is a spring which can aid in her recovery.”

Emma’s eyes surveyed his horse before zeroing in on the source of injury, kneeling down to further examine the open flesh near her hoof, fingers dancing delicately over the wound.

“The cut’s deep, almost to the bone. And it’s warm to the touch, which means infection is setting in.” She looked up as Ayla nuzzled her hair. “I’m surprise you’re not showing more distress, Ayla. You must be in a lot of pain.”

Ayla snorted in response and Emma smiled, taking a clean strip of cloth and wounding it around the injury. She stood to face Killian, gnawing her lower lip in worry. “I know this spring which you speak of but it’ll do little in helping Ayla; she’ll have a hard time getting there in any case.”

Killian’s heart dropped. “Is there anywhere else I can go to get help? Payment won’t be an issue. Ayla has been with me since I was a child, I’ll get her help anyway I can.”

Something flickered through Emma’s eyes. She hesitated before taking a deep breath and said, “I can help. I don’t have my remedies with me though, so you’ll need to come back to the Village with me.”

From behind Emma, Killian can see Red giving her friend a wary look.

“Thank-you. I – we will be forever grateful.” Killian patted Ayla, who tossed her head, nuzzling Emma further.

Emma waved him off with a smile. “It’s the least I can do after all you have done.”

They left the gully as a mismatched group, Killian with Ayla’s rein in one hand and a trussed up Walsh in the other, giving him a push every time the weasel slowed his steps. Gagged to prevent further monstrosities coming from his mouth, his venomous glare required little elaboration. Emma and Red led the group up ahead, keeping an eye on the children. Their whispered voices carried an urgent discussion which Killian cannot overhear.

At one point, Emma took Walsh off his hand, leading him into the depths of the forest. She returned without their errant prisoner and assured him, upon his questioning glance that Walsh will be taken to the Village by someone else.

Red bid them farewell at a fork in the road, taking the kids back home. Hansel and Gretel rushed up to give Emma a fervent hug in thanks and Red shot Emma a significant look as they parted.

They travelled in companionable silence (although something seem to be troubling Emma) until she stopped them before a section of trees shrouded in a heavy layer of mist. Hawthorns dotted the area, marking a clear boundary which the mist created.

Killian wondered if he should question this strange anomaly when Emma turned to him, looking nervous.

“Before we go in, I should warn you that our village is quite shy of strangers so we’re going to have to be discreet and uh… sneak in.”

He nodded his understanding, nonplussed.

“Follow me, and you won’t get lost.”

She disappeared into the mist with Ayla in tow and Killian followed, stepping into the white abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading! Review and constructive criticism are welcome. I'm also looking for a beta, so if you're interested, please drop me a line (either here or on my tumblr).


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